


Dark Nights

by myangelshunter (Beccarez)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Season/Series 10, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Demon Dean, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccarez/pseuds/myangelshunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's last run-in with a demon in search for his missing brother left him with a dislocated shoulder, and more questions than answers. But he finally got a hit on the Impala. Even if he isn't fully healed, and Castiel's grace is fading, he's not passing up on a chance to find Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Season 9 finale. My own personal take on how Sam could have found out about Dean.

Sammy knew something was seriously, seriously wrong when he found the Impala outside an old western bar in the middle of nowhere USA. After weeks of searching, Sam had finally gotten a hit on the car, and raced like Hell to track his brother down. Now, as he stood in the light of few street lamps, staring at the dust-covered Chevy, Sam couldn’t fight the dread in his stomach. Even though his shoulder was throbbing, the pain in his chest was worse. Dean would never, ever let the Impala get this bad. Maybe someone had stole the car…Sam had entertained that idea a few times. Except he knew that was idiotic; the Impala had been in the bunker’s garage before Dean’s disappearance, and vanished along with him. It had to be Dean. Sam just wasn’t sure how it _could_ be his brother. When Sam had last left him, there was a bloody hole in his chest thanks to Metatron.

Shouts sounded from the bar, making Sam jump and palm his side for his gun. After a minute, there was just laughter as a couple stumbled out from the swinging door. Sam remembered then that he was standing outside a rowdy country-themed bar. He relaxed a notch and peeked into the Impala’s cabin. There were empty soda and beer cans littered across the back seat, along with fast-food wrappers and magazines in the front seat. Sam swallowed thickly, letting his hand run over the top of the Impala, feeling the dirt and grime under his fingers.

“We’re gonna fix this.” Sam whispered, knowing how Dean would talk to the car whenever he was stressed. It wasn’t something Sam had ever tried before, and he was surprised that it actually felt comforting. He pulled his jacket around his shoulder tighter, hoping to hide some of the shoulder sling as he stepped into the warmth and light of the bar.

The place wasn’t packed considering it was Friday night. But there was a good amount of people lining the bars, sitting at the many tables and booths. A few were tucked into the back near the two pool tables. As Sam scanned the area, it wasn’t until his eyes hit the stage that his heart leapt into his throat. The man standing there, in nothing but jeans and a white t-shirt was singing karaoke. Singing horribly.

“Workin’ on the night moooovveeess!” Dean drawled out, drunk, and poorly out of tune, just like he always sang. “Come on!” He urged, holding the microphone out towards the few people brave enough to sit closest to the stage. Much to Sam’s surprise, they sang along with him until the song was over. None of them knew him other than seeing him drinking in the bar and singing on the stage. None of them knew that weeks ago Dean had been dead.

Again, that thought made Sam hesitate when Dean jumped down from the stage, stumbling as he walked towards the bar. If Dean had been dead, what was he now? The bartender already had two shots ready for Dean, and he tossed them back like they were nothing, waving his finger obnoxiously until the bartender returned with a pint of beer. Sam swallowed thickly, glancing around again to make sure everyone else was otherwise preoccupied before he walked towards his brother.

Dean let out a beer-filled blench when Sam sat down in the tall chair beside him. “Don’t.” Dean slurred. “Turn ‘ack ‘round, and pretend ya never found me.”

Sam clenched his jaw. Dean barely gave him a passing glance as he took another long drink of beer. “If you didn’t want to be found,” Sam answered, carefully, not too sure what state of mind his brother was in right now. “I wouldn’t be here.”

“Fucker.” Dean swore, closing his eyes as he sighed roughly. “I got sloppy once, ‘n you think I wanted to be found?”

Sam went to shrug, but remembered he couldn’t move his left arm. “Maybe part of you did.” Sam guessed. “It’s been over six weeks. Aren’t you tired of running?”

“Runnin’?” Dean laughed. His voice was deeper than Sam could remember. Maybe that was because of the shots Dean was taking along with his beer. “That’s what you think I been doing?”

“You told me not to come looking for you.” Sam muttered softly. “That’s usually what you do before running away.”

“Ha. Not you.” Dean said, bitterly, Sam realized. “Whenever you ran off you’d jus’ be gone.” Dean waved his hand lightly over his beer to demonstrate. “Not a damn peep. How’d it feel? Huh? Knowin’ I was gone somewhere, but not knowin’ where? Not knowin’ what happened to me? Not knowing what I was?”

Dean was staring right at Sam now, nothing but a few inches of bar spare between them. It was the first good look Sam got of his brother’s face in six weeks. The stumble that lined his jaw was dark in the bar-light. Sam was certain he hadn’t shaved in a week or so. His eyes were tinged dark too, but Sam could see the red rim from the alcohol. That didn’t bother Sam. What bothered him, was how cold Dean’s eyes were. There was nothing there, except maybe a slight flicker of satisfaction at Sam’s suffering over the weeks. That couldn’t be it though. Sam told himself. This couldn’t be the case of ‘a taste of your own medicine.’ That just wasn’t Dean.

That’s when it happened. Between one blink and the next, Dean’s eyes flickered to black, and a sadistic smirk pulled at Dean’s lips. Sam sucked in a breath, reeling back slowly in his chair. Dean blinked again, and his all-black eyes were gone. He turned back to his drink with a bitter laugh.

“You better get outta here ‘fore I finish this. Cuz I sure as shit ain’t leavin’ here without a fight,” Dean warned as he lifted the pint to his lips and swallowed a healthy gulp. “And you ain’t lookin’ like you’re in fightin’ shape there, _brother_.”

“I didn’t come here to fight.” Sam spoke carefully, as he noticed Dean’s eyes track the loose sleeve of his jacket, the edges of his shoulder sling around his neck. His mind was racing even as Dean turned back to his beer with a scoff. _Dean’s A Demon. Dean’s a Demon. Fucking Metraton killed him and now he’s a God-Damn Demon. Had to be the Mark. Dean had said the Mark was changing him. That had to be it. Fuck._

“I came to save you.” Sam forced the words out, despite the worried bombardment of thoughts. “I came here to bring you home.”

Dean slammed down the beer, smacking his lips as he stared at the row of whiskey and rum across the bar. “You never said the bunker was home.”

“Doesn’t matter now.” Sam said, shaking his head stiffly.

“I’m runnin’ outta beer here kiddo.” Dean warned, taking another gulp.

“You’re not a demon.” Sam finally hissed. “Not fully, at least.” Sam added hurriedly when Dean tossed a glare at him. He was suddenly very aware of the phrase ‘looks could kill’ but luckily Dean turned back to his dwindling pint of beer.

“You wouldn’t give me an out if you were.” Sam pushed. “You wouldn’t have let me find you, if you were. You wouldn’t be wasting your time getting drunk an—and singing stupid karaoke in a roadside bar if you were.”

“Oh, because you know me so well?” Dean chuckled despite the sincerity in Sam’s voice. He looked up, eyes flickering black for half a second as Dean’s fist tightened around his pint. “Even if you did, you don’t need me anymore. You’re a big boy now, Sammy.”

“I need my brother back.” Sam admitted around the thick lump in his throat. Out of everything that could have happened, Sam wasn’t expecting this. But of all the things that could have happened, this one had a remedy Sam knew of, and that was the best damn thing. “We have a cure for this Dean, come back with me to the bunker and we’ll fix this. We’ll fix everything.”

Dean slammed down his pint, and Sam realized, with a stab of fear, that the whole glass was completely empty. Dean stared up at him with that empty smirk on his face again, and Sam had no idea what to do. Should he wait until Dean threw the first punch? Or should he try to get his brother out of the bar before the fight broke out? How was he even going to fight Dean with no holy water, and his shoulder stuck in a sling? He didn’t even have his demon knife. Sam shuddered at the thought of having to use that against Dean. Against his brother.

“Dean, don’t do this.” Sam said, slowly standing up from his chair.

“Don’t make me.” Dean growled. That smirk rose into a small snarl.

“I’m not leaving here without you.” Sam shook his head stiffly as Dean practically jumped out of his chair. His brother swayed, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was from the booze, or because Dean was expecting a left hook. Because Dean had that gleam in his eyes that said he was ready for the fight, itching for it, craving it. Just like when Dean had the Mark as a human.

“You fellas better take this outside!” The bartender shouted. Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye to see the man holding a shotgun in his hands. “I ain’t asking for trouble.”

“Put that down.” Sam ordered, holding his one good hand up. “This isn’t serious, my brother and I are just—”

“Nah, go ahead, shoot us.” Dean chuckled, turning his eyes to the bartender. That smirk was widening on his face. “But it’ll be the last thing you do pal.”

“Dean, no!” Sam reached forward, grabbing his brother by the collar before he could think of what might happen. It was probably luck, and the alcohol working in Sam’s favor, because he managed to haul Dean towards the front door before he tried to take a swing. And Sam was ready for it. He ducked, letting go of Dean’s shirt to grab his wrist, twisting it behind Dean’s back as he shoved his brother into the door.

“Ha. That broken chicken wing ain’t stoppin’ you one bit lil brother!” Dean drawled, laughing as they stumbled into the parking lot. When Dean turned to face him again, his eyes were pure black, reminding Sam that his brother wasn’t all here. “But I ain’t holdin’ back on you.”

“I told you, I’m not going to fight.” Sam said, holding his hand out gently. He reached back for his gun, tossing it onto the ground closer to the Impala. Dean didn’t seem to care. He was just staring at Sam with black eyes and an empty smile. “I just want to help.”

“Maybe I don’t want your help.” Dean said, taking a small step to Sam’s left. “Ever think of that Sammy? Ever think that maybe I don’t want to be saved for once? What was that you told me last year huh?” The gravel of the old asphalt parking lot crackled under Dean’s boots as he continued to step. Sam took a step to the right for every two steps Dean took to his left. At this rate, Dean was going to corner him against the Impala. The words hung heavy in the air between them, but Sam didn’t have the words to answer him.

Dean continued to glare despite the smile on his face. “You remember don’t you? You said if the tables were turned, if you had the choice of saving me, or letting our good body Death come to collect, you wouldn’t save me.” Dean waved his hands out, taking his last step with a mock nod of his head. “Well guess what Sam. Problem solved and you got your wish.”

Sam felt the Impala press against his back while Dean stood in front of him, just waiting, watching, calculating where and when to strike next. It was like those shots and the beer Dean had been drinking all night weren’t even affecting him now. Part of Sam wondered then, if demons could even get drunk, or if Dean had been acting the whole time. He shook his head in disagreement.

“This isn’t you talking, Dean.” Sam said.

Dean turned, dramatically, to look over his shoulder. He held out his hands with a dry laugh. “I’m the only one talkin’ Sam! And it’s all me in here. No other demon was getting a piece of this.” He dusted off his shoulder, and Sam tried not to roll his eyes. That was so Dean, it threw him off for just a second, and in that second, Dean took another step closer.

“You don’t give up Dean.” Sam reminded him, holding a hand out weakly, like that would stop Dean from pouncing if he really wanted to now. Maybe, once upon a time, years ago, Sam could take on his brother in a fight and win. But not now, not when Dean was a demon and Sam had a busted shoulder. “You never gave up, not on me, not on Cas, never.”

Dean’s smile was fading. For a moment, Sam thought Dean was actually listening and taking him seriously. Sam pushed himself away from the Impala a step. “You always fought for us, Dean. Now I need you to fight for yourself. Don’t give up on yourself—”

Dean’s knuckles caught the edge of Sam’s jaw, and the top row of his teeth. Sam tasted blood on his lips. He felt the sting of his brother’s fist against his jaw as he stumbled backwards. His back crashed into the Impala, and Sam leaned heavily against the car as he tried to blink away the sting. He regained his vision just in time to see Deans’ second punch, and Sam dropped to the ground to doge it. Instead of his nose, Dean’s hand slammed into the back door frame.

“Dean, this isn’t you!” Sam shouted as Dean stumbled back, like the blow was too powerful for him to handle. “Come on Dean, you can fight this!”

Dean turned his fist over, staring at the knuckles that scraped against Sam’s teeth. He looked confused, Sam realized as he sucked in a stinging breath. Dean looked perplexed, like the punch actually hurt. Like his bloodied knuckles, hitting Sam, then the Impala, were confusing. Dean flexed his fingers, obviously waiting for something to happen. But the knuckles continued to bleed while Sam sat in the dirt, his back pressed between the back door and the rear wheel.

“Dean?” Sam finally reached a hand up, brushing the blood away from trailing down his bottom lip.

Dean looked up, and for a moment, Sam swore that his eyes flickered back to green. Dean turned his hand over, clenched and unclenched his fist. “We’ve been here before…” Dean whispered, almost so soft that Sam missed it.

“What?” Sam asked.

Dean clenched his jaw when his eyes fell to the smeared blood on Sam’s face. The next blink gave Sam green eyes but they were still hard and empty, like back in the low-light of the bar. Dean took a step back, and Sam quickly pulled himself to his feet, thinking his brother would bolt.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Why?” Sam echoed in confusion.

“Why did you come after me?!” Dean shouted, lashing a hand out to his side, gesturing wildly to the road beside them. “I left you a fucking note, saying to let me go. I ignored every damn phone call, dodged every fucking camera, hustled for cash after maxing the credit cards! Hell, I even set up a few cases to keep you off my ass.” Dean spat out the confessions with anger and confusion in voice. Sam could only watch as Dean ran his bloody hand through his hair. “You know I could kill you right now.” Dean added, his gaze flickering up, suddenly black in the shadow. “I could beat you to a pulp. Crack your skull beneath my boot. Watch you bleed out in this stupid parking lot then drive away. Find me a better bar an’ never look back.”

Sam wasn’t sure if Dean was being honest, or if he was playing up on the demon-card. His tense shoulders and clenched fists said honesty, but the frustration in his face said otherwise. Sam could only shake his head, even when Dean stalked closer like he was ready to throw another punch.

“You’re my brother, Dean.” Sam answered weakly. “I wasn’t just going to let you go. No matter what I said. And you can thank your buddy for this if you set up the last few hunts I went on.” Sam added distantly with a soft nod towards his broken arm.

Sam wasn’t sure why he said it. And he wasn’t sure what it was that crossed Dean’s face. It happened so fast, Sam was half convinced that he imagined it. But Dean raised his head quickly, his chin tilted up in a way that Sam only ever saw a hand full of times in his life. He did recognize the tightness in his brother’s shoulder, the hard clench of his hands and the odd jut of his jaw as Dean rolled his tongue behind his teeth.

“Rodney did this?” Dean asked, his words clear and precise, like he was interrogating someone.

“The demon over in Fairfax?” Sam wondered. “We weren’t on a first name basis or anything.”

Dean seemed to roll the information around as he clenched and unclenched his fist. “Uh-huh. And you sent him packing back to Dante’s Inferno right?” Dean wondered, still with that sharpness in his voice, despite the suddenly causality in his tone.

“Yea.” Sam said. He was off balance now. He had no idea why Dean suddenly wanted to know about his hunts or his injuries. Just five minutes ago, he’d been drunk and set on beating Sam to a pulp against the Impala, and not two seconds ago he was threatening to kill Sam here in the parking lot.

“He ever gets topside again I’ll kill him.” Dean growled.

Sam blinked at the declaration. Because, what? Sam felt a rush of familiarity, something that felt like this, from years ago, a lifetime ago, where there were bullies and lockers and a month-long stay at a motel. Back in that life, Dean had said something that like, because back then Dean cared about him. Sam could almost laugh right now. Dean _still_ cared about him. Or at least cared enough that he didn’t want _other_ demons hurting Sam.

Good. Sam could work with this.

“Yea, sure.” Sam reasoned. “If we run into him on the way back—”

“I never said I was going with you.” Dean snapped.

Sam rolled his lips gently, wincing as his tongue brushed against his cut. He pressed his fingers against the cut, trying not to wince as more blood trickled down his face. “Yea you are.” Sam sighed, like Dean had no other choice. He glanced up, not afraid to let the tired smile pull at his wounded mouth. “Because you just showed me that there’s part of you that’s still good. That’s enough for me.”

“Your bloody lip says otherwise.” Dean growled. Good. That had bothered him.

“You stopped.”Sam told him, daring to let that smile edge a little wider. “You said so yourself. You could have killed me. You could have beaten me until I was black, blue and bloody. But you didn’t. Actually, I think you got pissed that a demon buddy of yours dislocated my shoulder.”

“I sent the bastard at you to keep you _busy_.” Dean muttered, like he was talking to himself. “Not to put you six-feet under.”

“Because you still care.” Sam added softly. “There is still a shred of humanity left in you Dean. Let me help you find it all again, please.” Sam reached his good hand out, slowly, to Dean, hoping for the first time in months.

Dean stared at Sam’s open palm for a few seconds. There was only the sounds of the bar to surround them, and Sam had to fight down how oddly normal this all felt. With Dean’s eyes back to green-looking, it felt like Sam was begging him for the car keys rather than letting Dean drive drunk, because Sam only had one beer while they were reviewing details for a case, whereas Dean had five. But, Sam knew this wasn’t that easy. He knew, at any second, that Dean could pick up the gun near their feet and shoot him.

Dean must have noticed where Sam’s eyes flickered, because he stared down at the shining metal on the ground. Sam sucked in a breath as Dean reached down for it, pressing his back further into the Impala, feeling the door handle dig into his lower back. Dean turned the gun over in his hands once, even brushed away some of the pavement dirt from the barrel. Sam’s hand was slowly falling back to his side, his heart pounding in his chest as Dean continued to stare at his gun.

Silently, Dean turned the weapon to Sam. Instead of the barrel facing Sam, it was the pearl-finished handle. Sam couldn’t dare to breath, even as he reached for the gun. His fist closed around it, his fingers brushing against the trigger as Dean crowded forward again. Without thinking, Sam raised the gun, tucking it under Dean’s neck, and cocking back the hammer with ease of instinct.

“Good.” Dean growled. “I don’t want your trust anymore little brother.” Dean told him. “Because I’m not the man you came here looking for, he’s long gone.” Dean emphasized the point by blinking his eyes to black.

Sam took a slow breath, tensing again when Dean reached for something in his pocket. Dean held the key rings out in front of Sam’s face, knowing that Sam would have to tuck the gun away in order to grab the ring.

“But hell," Dean chuckled with a sick twist of his lips "If that won’t be fun trying to watch you get him back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it looks as though I will be adding to this story, albeit slowly and with smaller chapter sizes than my usual work. All the same, I hope you enjoy and decide to stick around for whatever shenanigans my muse comes up with this time XD
> 
> ((Any mistakes are my own since I'm without a beta for this story, so please feel free to comment whenever I miss something))

The night dragged on and on like the black asphalt beneath the Impala as Sam drove. Dean had decided to lay out in the back seat to sleep, and as the hours of silence dragged on, part of Sam wondered if he should pull over for the night to get maybe an hour or so himself. Another part of him didn’t trust Dean not to run as soon as Sam shut his eyes. So, instead of turning up the radio, or cracking open a window somewhere around the third hour Sam pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Cas’ number.

He heard the Angel pick up on the third ring with a deep rasping cough. Sam tried not to wince. “That cough isn’t getting any better Cas.” Sam muttered quietly.

 _“I think its passing.”_ Castiel’s voice was raspy, and his next cough was as filled with phlegm as it had been a month ago when Cas first caught the cough. They’d been so preoccupied with finding Dean that neither of them had brought it up really until now. And even at that, the thought was fleeting, because Castiel’s next question came quickly. “ _Is everything alright Sam? You never call this late._ ”

Sam glanced up at the rearview mirror where he could see Dean’s sleeping frown in the passing highway lights. “I found him.” Sam answered tightly.

There was a long silence that stretched out between them before Cas coughed. “ _You found Dean? Is he_ —”

“Alive?”Sam asked, chuckling dryly. “In a way.”

“ _I don’t understand.”_ Cas muttered quietly.

“Cas…” Sam rolled his lips with a soft breath. “Dean’s a demon.”

More silence followed. Sam could hear the squeaking springs of a bed, and the ruffling sounds of clothes moving around on the line. He waited another minute, wondering if Cas would say anything. When the silence continued, Sam decided to break it.

“I know that sounds crazy—” He started.

“ _It can’t be possible_.” Cas cut in sharply. “ _That can’t be Dean_.”

“It is,” Sam pressed. “I think the Mark made him a demon. Maybe it was always making him a demon and Metatron killing him was the last straw?”

“ _Do you have him restrained_?” Cas pressed suddenly. “ _Sam you’re still wounded from that last case, you can’t hope to take him on by yourself._ ”

“I’m fine Cas.” Sam chided quietly. “He won’t hurt me.” Although his upper lip was still throbbing as a small reminder, Sam ignored it. Dean had done worse the few times he’d taken the Impala out for a drive without Dean.

“ _You said he’s a demon.”_ Cas said, as though Sam had forgotten.

“Yea.” Sam muttered. “But I’m saying he’s had the chance already, and I’m still here.”

“ _Sam,”_ Cas started, slowly, like he couldn’t breathe deep enough to speak. “ _He is not your brother anymore_.”

“You don’t know that.” Sam defended quietly, like the side of his mouth still didn’t throb from where Dean had busted open his lip earlier. “We can cure him. We know how to cure demons.”

“ _Normal demons, yes_.” Castiel reasoned with a raspy cough. “ _But Dean can’t be a normal demon. Not while he bares the Mark of Cain. For all we know, using the cure on him might not work. It may kill him._ ”

Sam shook his head, biting his tongue roughly to hold back his anger. He shouldn’t be mad at Cas for being reasonable and doubting. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that they were in this shitty situation. It was Crowley’s fault. Crowley was the one who tricked Dean into getting the Mark. And it was Metatron’s fault the Mark even turned Dean. If Metatron hadn’t killed him, Dean would be fine. They would have found a way to get rid of the Mark before it did this to him. Sam swallowed thickly at the next thought that ran though his head; it was his fault too. His fault for turning Dean away, for staying mad for so long, for making Dean feel like he was alone all year. If Sam had listened to Kevin, had just stowed his crap for a little while to help Dean track down Abaddon, then Crowley never would have tricked him into getting the Mark in the First place.

 _“Sam?”_ Cas called quietly, like he was afraid the silence meant the call had dropped.

“We have to try.” Sam whispered softly. “We can’t just give up on him Cas.”

“ _Where are you now_?” Cas asked. Distantly, Sam heard the rustling of blankets and Castiel’s cough as he moved around his room.

“About two cities out from the bunker.” Sam said with a deep sigh as he glanced up at the passing mile marker. “I can make it back by morning if I don’t stop.”

“ _I’ll be there soon_.” Cas promised. “ _I still think you should restrain him until we secure him in the bunker_.”

“He’s sleeping right now.” Sam muttered. His eyes couldn’t help darting up to the rear-view mirror to take another look at his brother. Dean hadn’t budged since he’d stretched out across the back bench, his eyes were closed, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

“ _Sam, demons don’t sleep.”_ Castiel said, caution and trepidation lining his raspy voice. He coughed again as Sam flickered his gaze back to the road.

“Considering how drunk he was when I found him, this might be an exception.” Sam muttered. “I’ll see you back at the bunker.”

_“Be careful Sam.”_

“Yea, you too.” Sam murmured before hanging up the phone, letting it flop carefully back onto the bench seat.

“Hey, next gas station, pull over.” Dean’s voice came from the back seat, deep and raspy. It was so sudden and so soft that Sam almost jumped. Never before had Dean sounded so much like Dad.

Sam glanced up at the review mirror. Dean still hadn’t budged. His eyes were closed and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was rolling his lips though, like the taste in his mouth was unpleasant.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Gotta take a leak. Why else?” Dean grunted.

Sam almost chuckled at that. It reminded him of the time Dean had been turned into a vampire. Sam could almost hear his brother’s voice in his head: _Newsflash Sam, vampires piss so fuck off alright?_ Sam sighed softly at the distant and jarred memory. That was back during his soulless days. All those memories were still fuzzy, like patches from scary-vivid dreams. Dean turning into a vampire was definitely one of Sam’s worst fucking nightmares. Although, this demon thing was starting to take first place.

“Cas was right though,” Dean commented with a small sigh. “Ain’t your ordinary demon you got back here.”

Sam rolled his jaw slowly. “Were you even sleeping?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean chuckled, low in his chest. “Was until you called our Angel. Fucking speaker on your phone is loud as shit. So unless you’re gonna make any other calls, wake me up when we get to the gas station.”

Sam gave his brother another look through the mirror, taking a slow deep breath as the unease from the bar settled back in his chest. Sam made a silent note of going into the trunk for the handcuffs that would keep a demon restrained when he pulled into the next gas station eight miles down. Even if Sam didn’t want to believe that Cas might be right about Dean, he didn’t want to be caught completely off guard and loose his brother all over again.

 

 

 

***************

 

 

 

Dean didn’t have to sleep. It was one of the many perks he discovered around the tenth or so day after he woke up in the bunker and high-tailed it out of Kansas before Sammy could notice. He could stay up, as long as he wanted, without getting tired. But he’d get twitchy. He’d get into fights easily or sometimes he would cause them just to watch the stupid drunk humans get all red in the face before trying to knock him out. Crowley had hated those nights, and sometimes Dean loved pissing him off just for shits too. But the first time Dean drank himself stupid, which took damn near all night, he actually knocked out.

He wasn’t as twitchy the next morning, and Crowley was in a better mood for the afternoon. So every third night or so, Dean would at least try to sleep. Even if he didn’t need it, it was nice. Sleeping now was easier than Dean could ever remember it being in his life. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he was dead to the world for as long as he wanted.

Well, not completely dead. Dean could still hear the engine of the car rumbling as Sam drove them off the interstate. He could feel the motion of the car slowing and then coming to a completely stop. He could smell the gasoline and oil of whatever gas-station Sam had pulled into as soon as his brother opened his door. Yawning, Dean sat up slowly, smacking his lips against the thick aftertaste of whiskey and beer on his tongue.

He winced slightly at the bright overhead lights. Sam had pulled up to a gas pump and was sliding a card through the reader when Dean kicked open his passenger door. Sam jumped at the sound, which Dean found hilarious as he stood up straight, cracking his back in the process. Sam glared at him with a stiff nod towards the small station.

“Be back in five.” Sam warned as he reached for the gas nozzle and walked around to the back of the Impala. “Don’t make me come in after you.”

“Jeez Sammy, are you my brother or my warden?” Dean tossed over his shoulder with a sneer before sauntering into the gas station store, ignoring the late night cashier and heading straight for the restroom in the back. It only took him about two minutes, but Dean hovered in the small bathroom for three extra minutes out of sheer curiosity. He washed his face and ran his wet fingers through his hair as he leaned against the locked bathroom door. It was a single stall for all customers, one way in, and one way out. Unless Dean wanted to count the air-vent above his head, but that was hardly big enough for him to fit through.

Dean waited until he heard the jingle of the front station door open before smirking to himself. A quick glance at his watch confirmed it. Five minutes on the dot. The bastard. Dean tossed the lock and half-swayed out of the bathroom. Sam was browsing through the single snack aisles when Dean rounded the corner. His brother was making a show of debating between a bag of chips or a few granola bars, like he wasn’t standing perfectly in the middle of the room with a clear line of sight to the bathroom, and the door behind him through the reflection of the soda fridge three feet in front of him.

Little Sammy. Maybe he forgot that Dean taught him all the tricks of the trade.  Dean scoffed as that thought came and went, pushing rougher than necessary against the swinging front door. The warm night air did nothing for him as he strode across the station to the Impala.

For half a second, Dean debated ripping the bottom compartment under the steering wheel and hijacking the car. He could clear out of the parking lot before Sam could pay for whatever stupid gas station snacks he wanted. For a heartbeat, Dean entertained the idea, imagining the look on Sam’s face when he’d hear the engine roaring to life, and then his face again after he’d run out of the shop, forced to watch as Dean gunned the car down the street. Dean was smirking to himself when Sam’s good shoulder plowed into his back.

Damn. He’d spent too much time fantasizing again. He really needed to get a handle on that. Sam shoved him again before walking back to the Impala ahead of Dean, carrying a paper bag in his one good hand.

“Let’s go.” Sam called over his shoulder.

“You in a rush to get home Sammy?” Dean snickered as he followed slowly after his brother.

Sam tensed as he turned back to Dean, putting the paper bag on the roof of the Impala. He gave Dean a once over and scanned the parking lot again, probably wondering if the place was still empty. Which it was since it was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere Kansas.

“Relax. If I wanted to run I would have already.” Dean said, rolling his eyes gently when Sam gave him a mistrusting once over.

“Why didn’t you?” Sam asked. “You’ve been dodging me for months.”

“Don’t think too hard Samantha,” Dean muttered. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He snapped opened the rear-driver-side door and slumped into the back seat again. He hid his smirk as best he could when Sam sat down, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. Dean kicked his feet up onto the long bench seat, letting his boots knock against the opposite door as he stretched with a content sigh. Now Sammy was gonna be on edge, second guessing every little thing Dean had done in the past five hours, and Dean could sit back to watch him squirm.

That’d make the next few hours in the car a bit more bearable.

It wasn’t until after the first hour that Dean actually realized they were being followed. There was a jeep with flood lights on the top rack following about four cars behind them. At first, Dean thought it was nothing, but every time he looked out the back window, that jeep was there. Huh. This was interesting.

If Crowley knew that Sam came to get him, it could be someone keeping a tail on Dean. Even if that sounded like something Crowley would do, his demon wouldn’t be so dense. The jeep was a god-damn eyesore. So if it wasn’t a demon then it was someone trying to follow the Impala. When Sam turned onto the highway, so did the Jeep.

It was too dark still for Dean to make out the color or see the driver. Whoever it was kept a far enough distance that Dean couldn’t even get the plate numbers. He watched it lull back when the traffic thinned out, staying at least a lane away and eight cars back now. Dean hummed quietly at that. The driver couldn’t pick a low-profile car for shit, but they knew enough to keep their distance. They were just good enough that Sam hadn’t noticed.

Dean knew from the road signs dotting the highway that they were about two hours away from the bunker. And his clueless brother was leading this tale straight for it. Idiot. Dean kicked the front seat.

Sam jumped in surprise, and Dean smirked when his brother glanced up at him from the mirror. “What?”

“Pull over.” Dean demanded, watching Sam tense with a pleased smirk.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Dean asked instead. “It’s nearly five in the morning. Sun’s almost up. Let’s stop and grab a bite to eat.” He offered. “Just like ol’ times. Bet you’re jonesing for your first cup o’ joe already.”

Sam shook his head roughly, turning his eyes back on the road decisively. “We can eat at the bunker.”

“If you make it to the bunker.” Dean muttered with a sigh. He bowed his head like he was going to try and sleep again, but he kept his eyes cracked, watching Sam’s expression in the rearview mirror.

Sam was a straight rod sitting in the front seat, but he couldn’t stop blinking his eyes. He swallowed thickly, and Dean knew his brother was running through worse case scenarios of leaving ones demon brother unrestrained in the backseat of his car. Dean nearly snorted at the thought.

“You’re chugging on fumes little brother.” Dean grumbled as he sat up slowly. “We got another what? Two, maybe three, hours until we hit Lebenon? Pull over, we’ll find a waffle house or something.”

Sam laughed, lightly, unfeeling. “Gonna tell me that demons eat now?” He grumbled under his breath.

Dean could hear him of course, and he smirked at the first response that came to his mind. “I’d kill for some French fries right about now.” He murmured.

Sam’s shoulders grew ridged. Got him. But just to sweeten the deal…

“Alright Sam, if you don’t wanna stop, then at least pull over so I can drive.” Dean offered.

“No.” Sam answered tightly, switching lanes effortlessly. Dean smirked to himself, glad to see that Sam was preparing to take the next exit off the highway. “You’re lucky there’s an Ihop at this exit.” Sam added sharply.

Dean settled back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest against as he let his head rest back on the rear-passenger door. Luck had nothing to do with it really, but Sam didn’t need to know that just yet. But when Dean glanced back out the back window again, he saw that the Jeep trailing them signaled for the next exit as well. And if Dean’s smirk turned into a pleased snarl, well, Sam didn’t need to know that either.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written to fill a prompt request on tumblr, but it ran away from me as I was writing, hence the separation from my "tumblr drabbles." I also may add to this again someday (or if you guys want more demon!dean) but as of now, the work is complete. I hope you enjoyed and as always, you can find me on tumblr!


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